


Dress for the Occasion

by breakthisspell



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: Developing Relationship, Disguise, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-04-20
Updated: 2012-04-20
Packaged: 2017-11-04 00:14:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/387517
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breakthisspell/pseuds/breakthisspell
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Korra's going to sneak into an Equalist rally, Mako figures, she should at least look the part.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dress for the Occasion

**Author's Note:**

> A quick oneshot I wrote after seeing Saturday's promo for episode 3. 
> 
> Yep.

“You’re really going to go like that?” Mako eyes Korra as she heads for the attic door, dragging his gaze from the top of her hat to her boot-clad toes with a disapproving look.

Korra groans. “What?” She puts a hand on her hip and rolls her azure eyes. “I changed my boots and put on this stupid hat. Isn’t that enough?”

He leans on the kitchen counter and crosses his arms at his chest. “Not when you’re wearing that Water Tribe garb,” he says dryly, “In case you haven’t noticed, you’re the only person in the city who dresses like that. They’ll snuff you out in a minute.” Mako scoffs, as if this should have been obvious to her already, which, to say the least, irritates her. Korra fights the urge to roll her eyes at him once more.

“Sorry," she spits back, "but unless you want me to go back to Air Temple Island and get my Airbending training clothes, which kind of stand out a _little bit_ more, I don’t have anything else to wear.” She looks down at her clothing and frowns. “Well…maybe I can take off these pelts,” she mumbles as she tugs at the ties around her waist. They come loose, and Korra sheds the skins and throws them on the kitchen table unceremoniously.

She hadn’t noticed Mako walk away, but by the time she is free of her pelts, Mako is returning from his and Bolin’s room, a green jacket folded in his hands. “Put this on,” he orders as he throws her the jacket.

She does what she’s told, shrugging into the jacket and buttoning it at the many clasps at the top, wondering if all clothing in the Republic is so complicated to put on. She thinks of her usual Water Tribe clothing in comparison, all of which can be pulled on or off without much hassle, save for the ties that hold her pelts in place.

She studies the garment, too small to be Bolin’s, but so unlike Mako’s usual clothing. It's long on her, though, and she and Bolin are almost the same height. “Whose is this, anyway?” She asks, frowning down at the jacket.

“Mine,” Mako answers offhandedly, “who else’s would it be?”

Korra lets that sink in, then chuckles. For some reason unbeknown to her, she finds it amusing that she’s wearing _his_ jacket, even if she could have figured that it was before he confirmed it.

“What?”

Korra snickers. “Nothing, nothing.” She stands straight and faces him, hands on her waist again. “Well? Do I blend in enough?”

"Hmm," Mako studies her, eyes once again surveying her from head to foot, and then frowns. “You're almost there, but I can still see the top of your shirt through the jacket. Here," he says as he takes off his scarf and wraps it around her neck, draping the fabric so that it covered her blue collar and letting part of it hang loose to the side of her neck. Every so often, his hand would touch the skin on her neck, and she would shudder and a wave of _something _would shoot down her spine. It wasn’t that his skin was cold—he was a Firebender after all…__

“All right” Mako proclaims. “You’re all set.”

She gives him an uneasy smile, that unfamiliar feeling of _something_ moving from her spine to the pit of her stomach, heavy and incredibly strange. “Thanks.”

They head for the door as Mako says, “and Korra?”

Mako’s hand reaches for her shoulder, and as they look into each other’s eyes in a moment of sudden sincerity, the feeling somehow intensifies, gnawing at her insides and stirring rapidly in her stomach. Korra concludes that the sensation isn’t going away any time soon. She swallows. “Yeah?”

He sighs. “Just…be careful, okay?”

Korra nods in response and looks down to the floor, feeling too uncomfortable to meet his gaze. “Yeah. You too.”

Mako smiles--or rather, the tips of his lips curve up a pinch. But this is _Mako,_ and for him, that qualifies as one. “Good.”

“Wait a second,” she accuses lightly to ease the tension, a smirk pulling at the corners of her lips, “are you talking about me being careful at the rally, or being careful with your scarf?”

“Uh,” he says awkwardly, “both. Kind of.”

Korra finally loosens up. She laughs, sending a punch to his arm as her laughter dies down. “You’re such a loser,” she teases.

He rolls his eyes, then opens the apartment door to lead her outside. “Come on, Korra.”

She follows him out the door, feeling the knots in her stomach beginning to unravel themselves.


End file.
